Category / Poetry
Tashmina’s Private Stroll
Etched In Every Cell
Tristan’s Insight
Paracelsus was the last natural healer, revered and loved by the common folk of many places in the late Middle Ages. Outcast and demonized because he did not undergo a traditional academic medical education, instead he wandered about from a young age observing the capacities of wild plants and earth substances via direct spiritual perception. He knew that poison and remedy were the same substance, differentiated only by a matter of dosage, and discerned the correct dose and preparations as if ‘demonically’.
Birthdays
This short reflection is four years old, already. But that season of the year has rolled round once more, and I’ve always liked the way this one turned out…
Thirty-Five (Nel Mezzo…)
The opening of Dante’s Inferno reads: ‘Nel mezzo del cammino di nostra vita / mi ritrovai per una selva oscura / che la diritta via era smarrita.’ — which could be poetically rendered in English as: “When I had traversed midway on this life’s trail, I woke to myself alone within a shadowed wilderness, for I had lost the right and proper path that never strays.”
Mid-Summit
Inside’s Secret Outside
Ripeness
Une Triolet Solitaire Pour Toi
Imagine: 19th century, Klondike gold rush, dangerous Yukon, a young man daring his fortune, his sweetheart behind far behind, waiting, somewhere in a seaside village in Mexico.
||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 